


Kukulkan

by I_was_BOTWP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, F/M, Love, Mayan Mythology - Freeform, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP
Summary: A drought has wreaked havoc on their land and their way of life. As the rulers and priests push their society to the brink with ever-escalating demands for sacrifices in order to appease the gods, a young woman questions the very foundations of her people's beliefs. Alternate Universe Dramione - takes place as the Mayan civilization in and around Chichen Itza begins to crumble (circa 1000CE).





	Kukulkan

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for the In Another Life - Dramione Alternate Universe Fest. If it weren't for the wonderful women who put this together, In Dreams and Kyonomiko, I probably would have never attempted to write something so far outside my comfort zone. Thank you ladies for pushing so many of us to try our hand at world-building and spending time each day to cheer us on. And thank you to all of the other authors for the heaps of positivity you spread as we each worked towards our goals. 
> 
> I had RooOJoy checking in on me nearly every day to see how I was doing with my plotting, characterizations, and bounce ideas around. Thank you for being my alpha! Finally, when you read this story, keep one other amazing person in mind, who spent countless hours cleaning up my syntax. HeartOfAspen has the impressive ability to take my lumps of coal and turn them into diamonds. Whatever would I do without her?
> 
> I chose my prompt because it would allow me to write about something I know. I hope you enjoy what I did with it.
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  Tropical AU: The villagers have always regarded the ancient temple with cautious respect, the old stories instilling both reverence and fear.

_Thwack._

The hard rubber ball bounced off the stone wall, narrowly missing an intricately carved hoop mortared perpendicularly, high above their heads.

Ginny rushed forward to pick the ball up off the hot, sun-burnt grass. With a deft toss across the court to Luna, she had the game moving in the direction she wanted. Or so Hermione surmised, until the ball fell flat a few lengths from where Luna stood. The airy young woman stared at the ball curiously as it rolled to a stop just to her left.

Grimacing, Ginny jogged across the ball court toward their teammate. Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow, trying to decide if she should wait where she stood or move into the scant shade under a nearby arch. With a sigh, she stayed where she was. There was no need for her to anger their captain by being out of position when they started back up with practice.

Sharp words drifted down toward Hermione from where the other two stood. Ginny was gesturing wildly, while Luna smiled calmly. As the acoustics inside the playing area carried voices perfectly if you were in the correct spots, Hermione attempted to tune out Ginny’s diatribe.

She thought again about moving to the shade, but a glance to the opposite side of the field found Angelina giving her a stern look. The statuesque woman crossed her arms and shook her head, which Hermione took to mean they both needed to stay put.

Shifting her weight, Hermione let her gaze drift toward the giant pyramid which loomed over their city and their way of life. If it weren’t for the upcoming Spring Equinox, she would not be on this gods-awful hot field now. Internally, she began listing all of her annoyances.

Annoyance with her two best friends, Harry Chahuk Hun and Ron Chak Peek', for talking her into competing in a sport she did not even like topped her list. When they, along with Ron’s sister Ginny K’ak’ Tizimin, suggested she try something new, this had seemed better than pretending to be interested in apprenticing for a vocation she did not feel called to. She knew they just wanted her to not always feel like she didn’t belong.

That her team consisted of Ginny, who was captain and crazy to win at almost any cost; Angelina Taj Sic, who was effortlessly athletic and unknowingly made Hermione feel constantly clumsy; Luna T’ul Chel, whose oblivious nature created constant strife; and a few other mismatched women, who avoided speaking to Hermione because they either did not like her or care to get to know her, caused Hermione to grit her teeth.

The heat and humidity were stifling, without the promise of respite on the horizon. It had not rained in more than six moons now. What they needed was _real_ rainfall. Not just a short, light shower, but the kind their people and land required to thrive. That sort of water was now a thing of legend, with no elders left alive who could tell the stories of the great rains. Being constantly hot and sweaty, without much hope for water made not only Hermione cranky, but everyone around her as well.

Overarching all of this was the continued reverence nearly everyone besides Hermione showed for the gods. If the gods were even real - which Hermione seriously doubted - they had certainly forsaken their people. Staring at Kukulkan’s temple, which cast its shadow across the field next to it, her ire grew. It was her opinion that people were being needlessly sacrificed on a regular basis to appease their gods... but no one seemed to want to talk about why those same gods continued to frown upon them.

“Ginny!” she shouted, breaking out her reverie, and returning her attention to the ball court. The other woman broke off her conversation to look at Hermione. “Leave Luna be and let’s get back to practice. I have other things I could be doing rather than listening to you two talk about whether or not Luna is correct and Aluxo’ob are infesting our playing field. Otherwise, I’m heading off to sit in the shade.”

A soft snicker sounded in Hermione’s ear, although no one was within ten body lengths of her. Holding her hand up to shade her eyes from the bright sun, she scanned the stands above them where a few people sat watching. She already knew exactly whom to look for. It was that stranger from another village, Draco. She found him, near mid-field, sitting cross-legged atop the limestone wall. He inclined his head at her, acknowledging her disdainful stare. The bastard had obviously known she would hear him perfectly.

How was it that this man - who only showed up twice a year for a short period of time leading up to each equinox - could get under her skin so easily? Yet, it was just a small, single facet of his overall mysterious aura.

The men of their city prided themselves on moving with purpose and grace, but Draco put them all to shame. His liquid movements reminded Hermione of a jaguar, both when he was on the field playing ball, or when she chanced upon him at other ceremonial events.

Rumors of his prowess in the bed had reached her ears too, by way of Pansy Ha’ Sijom’s indiscreet talk. There had been knowing looks and winks from a couple of other women as well, but only Pansy had flaunted her past liaison with the tall, lean outsider. After the previous fall equinox, she had made it quite clear that everyone else should consider Draco off-limits if he reappeared come spring.

“Hermione!” Angelina snapped. “Pay attention!”

Hermione blushed, realizing she had been still staring at Draco. Ginny and Luna had parted and were both back in position.

“Okay, now that _we all know what’s expected of us_ ,” Ginny announced, with a pointed look in Luna’s direction, “let’s try this again.”

~oOo~

“You should trust your eccentric friend - Aluxo’ob certainly are real.”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She had not only thought she was alone, but also that she had been well-hidden within the thick greenery that surrounded a rarely visited lesser cenote. Though she assumed the hole had once been full of water, this one was barely muddy at the bottom. She had been tossing rocks into the bit of stagnant water left in one corner.

Quickly, she dropped the stone still clutched in her hand. Knowing she had been caught in the sacrilegious act of throwing unsanctioned objects into a well, she was hesitant to stand up, even though the owner of the voice obviously knew she was there. And, it occurred to her, he must know exactly _who_ she was too, as he had referenced the incident on the ball field from earlier in the day. She certainly knew who he was, just from that one drawled out sentence.

“How did you manage to sneak up on me?” she asked as she stood from her crouching position behind a tree. What she really wanted to ask was, _Why did you track_ **_me_ ** _down?_

Draco smirked at her. “I have my ways of… _materializing_ where people least expect me.”

He glanced down at her empty hand, then looked toward the cenote. Her face grew hot and she wondered what he was thinking. If anyone found out about this, her parents would be so disappointed. She had promised them she would keep her thoughts on religion to herself from now on. Although she had not expected for anyone to find her throwing random rocks into a sacred cenote, her benign intention would not matter if the blasphemy she was committing became known.

“How do you know Aluxo’ob are real?” she asked, tamping down her embarrassment, and hoping to draw his attention back from the cenote to her. “They’re conveniently invisible most of the time, so I doubt you’ve seen one. And if you believe in them, should you even be saying their names aloud?”

“Their tricks don’t work on me,” he answered noncommittally, which had her rolling her eyes. Seeing her reaction, he added, “I leave offerings at their shrines along trails or roads, and luck seems to follow me.”

Regarding him through narrowed eyes, she asked, “Are you trying to prove their existence to me by telling me I can’t prove they don’t exist?”

Draco snorted. The smile on his face indicated he found her amusing, perhaps even witty, so she pressed on.

“So, have you seen one then? Or just their little homes?”

“Is seeing believing, or do you need to touch something for it to be real?” he countered, cocking his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips. “And even if I said I saw one, how do you know you can believe me? You don’t believe your friend, and here I am, a complete stranger.”

“You aren’t a complete stranger. You come to our village every year to take part in the equinox celebrations. It’s been eight or nine equinoxes now.”

When he smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, she nearly decided to hide her face behind her hands in shame. She had basically just admitted that she had been keeping track of him, year after year. Hopefully, he would not think she was just as crazy as that twit, Pansy.

“Still, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. His eyes swept her body, and Hermione got the feeling he meant something entirely improper.

Offering her hand, she gave him her full true name, “Hermione Tzula Itzae.”

“I am known as Draco K’iin Kan,” he responded, taking her hand in his.

A remark that his names meant ‘Sun Serpent’ was on the tip of her tongue, when their skin made contact. All thoughts stopped as a pleasant jolt shot through her, starting where her fingers wrapped in his, then racing up her arm and raising the fine hairs, before ending with a warm buzz in the back of her head. She thought, perhaps, she might have let out a small contented moan.

Wonder filled her as she realized he must feel something too. His hand clutched hers tightly while his toned chest rose and fell with panting breaths. His mouth was wide open and his nostrils were flared. Locking eyes with Draco, she found his dark eyes had morphed to a shade she had, until then, only associated with storm clouds gathering in the sky. It wasn’t the rich indigo blue their people used to paint murals, but rather a lighter blue.

A staccato rhythm filled her ears. Licking her suddenly parched lips, she tried to will her pounding heart to slow down. She closed her eyes, trying to find her bearings.

As suddenly as it all began, the magic slipped away when Draco wrenched his hand out from her grasp. Feeling overwhelmed and bereft, she opened her eyes to find he had stepped back a pace or two from her. His face was a calm mask, belying what had just occurred between them.

His eyes, which she had momentarily thought to be a clear blue, were once again a dark shade of brown.

“Wh- what?” she stammered. “What was that?”

“I think you over-exerted yourself today on the field in the hot sun,” he said, his voice containing little inflection as he stared at her. “I thought for a moment you were going to faint. Perhaps I should walk you home?”

Confusion and anger warred inside her. She shook her head, denying his assertion. “No, that’s not it. Something happened and you were affected, too. I saw it!”

“All I saw was you suddenly looking as if you were going to pass out before you closed your eyes and took some deep breaths. You look better now, but I really insist that I should walk you home.” He moved around her as he said this, keeping a careful distance as he eyed her warily.

Could he be right? Had she experienced some sort of heatstroke? She did not know what to think, except that it had felt so real. Mentally, she berated herself. Magic wasn’t real… just like Aluxo’ob and the gods were not real, no matter what Draco or anyone else in her city believed.

Draco started off down the trail without her, but glanced back over his shoulder and beckoned for her to come along. Feeling embarrassed, she followed him toward the faint trail that led back to Chichen Itza.

~oOo~

True to his word, Draco walked Hermione back to the village, straight to her home. Later, it would occur to her to wonder how he knew where she lived, but at the time, her mind was still clouded with what had happened when they touched. When Draco had taken his leave, she was so distracted she had barely noticed. Upon entering the hut she shared with her parents, she was immediately set upon by her mother.

“Where have you been? I thought you were going to return immediately after practice? I told you this morning that Fleur’s labor had begun yesterday and I expected it to be difficult. Her mother and her husband’s mother were both assisting her through the beginning stages, but it would be necessary for myself and my apprentice to be there soon. _You’re my apprentice._ ” She said the final words in a hiss, eyes narrowed and hands on hips.

Before Hermione could defend herself, her father, who had been sitting at a table in the corner, stood and came forward. “I did what I could to help your mother by bringing along some herbs and a paste. But it isn’t a Medicine Man’s place to help bring babies into the world. Midwives have a sacred duty to our society.”

The pointed stare he gave her cut to the quick, in a way her mother's words had not. Her parents both knew their duties to the tribe were important, but it was her father's quiet way of going about them, rather than her mother's habit of harping, that made Hermione feel guilty for not being more like them.

“I know our place in society,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast as she watched her toe scuff at the packed dirt floor. As was befitting her parents’ status, their home was larger and better furnished than many, but it was still a hut, rather than a limestone home such as the nobles built. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there this afternoon to help with Fleur’s baby. Did it go okay? What did she have?”

Looking up, she caught her mother’s smile and a satisfied glow in her eyes. “She had a healthy baby girl. Ix Chel has blessed us.”

Hermione glanced at the small altar that stood in front of the partition that hid their beds from view. A few offerings - jade beads, shells, and a carved bone - were piled up before a clay effigy of a beautiful woman. The goddess Ix Chel, in this form, rather than her more common fanged crone persona, was sacred to both her mother and her father.

When she had been a child, Hermione had enjoyed putting trinkets and gifts in front of the small carved statue. It had been a fun game to add or rearrange items, and to light incense. Her parents had, of course, encouraged it. Once she had begun to understand the significance behind the offerings and that she was expected to believe this secondary world existed alongside their own, unseen, she had lost interest in the endeavor.

“Hermione,” her father said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder, “we’re proud of you for entering the games this year. We thought, perhaps...” His voice trailed off, unsure. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught him sharing a look with her mother; he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Still staring at the altar, Hermione felt her throat tightening. “I just want to fit in,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling. Her eyes burned with the effort to hold back tears. When her father’s arm slipped around her back, she stopped fighting it and buried her head in his chest as warm, salty tears slid down her cheeks.

“We love you, no matter what,” her mother reassured her, reaching out to rub her back below her father’s embracing arm. “And that means we worry about you. We’re concerned about you finding a husband and having a family of your own some day. Perhaps we should speak to Ron’s mother-”

“No!” Hermione broke in, horrified as she recalled the single time she and Ron had snogged after consuming heavy quantities of balche. “He’s my friend, nothing more.”

Disentangling herself from her parents’ embrace, she swiped her thumbs across her cheeks and under her eyes. Inhaling shakily, she tried to center herself. They only stood quietly, watching her with concerned faces.

A glance outside showed the sun nearing the horizon. Ginny and her mother would be packing up their table at the market by now, folding up the gorgeous textiles Molly wove to sell there. It also meant that Harry’s team would be starting their practice soon; he had told her before that they would be meeting at the close of the market, if she cared to watch. She had initially scoffed at his offer, but now she was glad he had made it, as it would give her a convenient escape from her parents for a bit longer.

Though she felt somewhat guilty saying it, Hermione excused herself, “I apologize again for not being there to help you, mother. If you don’t need me for anything now, I think I’m going to go meet with Ginny to watch Harry’s team practice. I’ll be home in time to help you prepare dinner.”

Her father still had a pensive look on his face, but her mother’s expression softened, a slight smile taking the place of her frown. “Of course, Hermione. Go be with your friends for a bit. If Neville’s stand is still open, will you see if he has any agave?”

Neville Tz’ap Maquahuitl was also on Harry’s team, so Hermione would be able to ask him either way. Nodding, she left quickly, not wanting to give them a chance to change their minds.

~oOo~

Making her way through the small maze of homes surrounding hers, she was surprised to see a man exiting Minerva Mis Ch'up's hut. His back was to her, but the way he held himself looked familiar. She quickly realized it was Draco. The sunlight caught his hair, making it look lighter than anything she was used to seeing. Almost as if he had sensed her stare, he turned, and his gaze caught hers immediately. The shift in his stance lessened the effect created upon his hair by the sun. He smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. She smiled back, but did not make to move toward him - she did not wish to be late in meeting Ginny, or in watching Harry’s team.

Moving toward the stone columns situated on the opposite side of the wide open green around the temple of Kukulkan, her mind whirled as she thought through the possible reasons Draco might be calling upon Minerva.

The elder woman was a widow twice over now, bearing children from neither marriage. Minerva was revered as a storyteller, her knowledge of the stories of their people and gods important in passing on history and teaching generations of children. She was also trained as a scribe, which showed how high she had been within the hierarchy of her prior village before marrying a man from here. But Draco had not been raised here, so how would he know that about a woman who now rarely went further than the small clearing outside the doorway of her small hut?

As the heat had set in over the most recent cycle of days, Hermione’s father had more than once voiced concerns over their evening meals. Cases of malaise increased with the temperature, but some seemed more affected that others. He had been down to see Minerva frequently, and it was his opinion the frail, old woman would not make it very far past the equinox.

Before Hermione could come to any sort of conclusion regarding Draco’s unusual visit, two people were jogging up to her, claiming her attention.

“Hermione!” a boisterous voice called out. There was Ron, unexpectedly next to his sister; she rarely saw him at the market with his sister or mother, as it could mean he would be asked to do extra work. Further back, she caught sight of their mother, Molly. The older woman held up a hand in acknowledgment, as she veered toward their family hut. Loping easily up to her, Ron smiled, openly happy to see her. “Ginny told me you planned to meet up and watch my practice.”

Ron was one of the tallest people in their village, but he did not move with the same awareness of his body Hermione enjoyed watching in other men. He wasn’t bad looking, although objectively there were others she considered more handsome. What really drew her to Ron as a friend, was his overall easy-going manner. Sometimes, the looks he gave her led her to suspect he had felt more than she had during their night of alcohol-infused groping - but for the most part, she believed them to be close in the same way she and Harry were friends.

“You’re playing Keeper this year, aren’t you?” she asked, craning her head to look up at him as he slung a companionable arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the ball court.

Looking chuffed that she knew about the important position Harry had assigned him, Ron replied, “Yep! I beat out that git, Cormac.”

“Blech! Cormac,” Ginny said, making a noise of contempt as she strode along Hermione’s other side. “I heard he got a spot on a team with Blaise and Zacharias. Bunch of ponces with no hope of winning the tournament.”

Already feeling better after just a couple of minutes in the presence of her friends, Hermione snickered, “Can you imagine the pranks George and Fr-”

Ron’s steps faltered as Hermione cut off before finishing saying Fred’s name. On her other side, Hermione heard Ginny’s sharp breath.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. She felt horrible about nearly saying their dead brother’s name; how could she have forgotten he had been chosen as the sacred sacrifice by the gods after last equinox’s tournament ended? Harry’s team had been declared the champions and both of Ron’s brothers had been on it. Through the words of the city’s high priest, Albus K’uk Waay, the gods had made it known that their choice was Fred.

Regaining his pace, Ron assured her, “It’s okay. I still do it sometimes, too. And you’re right, George and Fred would have loved pranking the members of that team.”

They had come to the playing arena by that time, and found that there was another team there, just finishing their practice. Harry, along with Ron’s brother, George Cha’ Xojb’, and a few other young men stood at the edge of the court, waiting their turn. Pausing and still holding on to Hermione, Ron gave her a searching look. Quietly, he queried, “Wish me luck?”

“Of course!” she said, laughing. Stepping out from under his arm, she caught Ginny looking at them. The younger woman smirked. “It’s just a practice.”

“Right,” Ron said, his smile slightly askew. “Well, I better join the others.”

Hermione and Ginny moved off toward the backside of the court’s western wall where it sloped down to make climbing to the top easy. When Ginny would not stop grinning at her like an idiot, Hermione hissed, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Ginny responded sweetly.

They settled into an open spot. Directly across from them, on the opposite wall of the long playing field, sat two women from another team, seemingly also there to watch the practices.

“Why are Lavender and Cho staring at us like that?” Hermione wondered, turning to quietly talk to Ginny, not wanting her voice to carry.

Plopping next them, Luna startled both Hermione and Ginny when she answered before Ginny could. “I expect they’re here to keep an eye on the competition.”

Hermione glanced back at the field. It was a male team exiting and a male team about to go on. Confused, since the teams were strictly divided by gender, and a winning team would be announced separately for the females of their land, Hermione said, “It isn’t like they’ll be allowed to compete against these teams.”

“That is true,” Luna answered.

Hermione opened her mouth to question Luna further, when she saw something surprising enough to make her forget their conversation. Draco was walking up to Harry’s team and shaking hands with them. They all seemed genuinely happy to see him as they took turns clasping hands with him.

“What is he doing here?” Hermione asked, pointing to Draco, then looking at Ginny, expecting her to know what was going on.

Once again, it was Luna who answered a question Hermione had directed at her other friend. “I suspect he is replacing Fred.”

Ginny only nodded, her eyes also on the men below.

Hermione watched as Harry’s team took the field and observed that Draco was indeed moving into the position which Fred had occupied until only a few moons ago. Just as he stopped walking, he raised his eyes to the stands above him and he stared directly at her, unquestionably aware of where she was seated. Hermione gasped.

“What?” Ginny finally turned and looked at Hermione, rather than continuing to goggle Harry’s arse.

“Nothing,” Hermione said quickly, unsure of what to say as she quickly diverted her gaze - but not before she caught Draco giving her a cocky smirk.

The rest of the practice, Hermione pretended to watch all of the men equally, while being careful to keep up with the conversation around her. But her attention was always at least peripherally on Draco.

~oOo~

Over the following days, strange things seemed to keep happening to Hermione. Nothing so large as to scare her, but small unexplainable things she worried others would laugh at her for if she even tried to to tell them.

Taken individually, she would have brushed the incidents off, but as they piled up in her mind, she wondered if there was a pattern.

“Minerva’s doing better than I’ve seen her fare in many moons,” her father announced early the next morning. He had stopped by to check in on the woman just before sunrise. Hermione had forgotten all about seeing Draco exit the elderly woman’s hut until this, and immediately restarted her speculations about what exactly he had been doing there.

“Perhaps it’s a sign you should spend time learning from her?” Hermione’s mother asked, looking at her hopefully. Hermione chewed her lip, genuinely thinking on it.

There had been a time she had been sure taking over Minerva’s role in their society had been her calling. She had sat with the woman a few times, watching her and listening to her impart her knowledge. Hermione’s father was able to read and write - a rare talent, but needed by a Medicine Man. Minerva had worked in conjunction with her father to foster Hermione’s talent in the drawing the complicated glyphs.

In a self-aware moment, she had suggested perhaps Harry would be better suited to being a teacher than her. He already was well-regarded as a hunter who took younger men out with him to teach them the secrets of successfully stalking prey. But Hermione also knew that more than anything, he wanted a family and more physical safety than the role of a hunter offered.

Shaking her head, Hermione hated how the light died had in her mother’s eyes. “I love listening to Minerva and learning from her. I even enjoy the sharing of knowledge with others, but I don’t have the patience to sit with all of the children every day. Those kids can be brutal.”

“You’ll feel differently when you have your own children,” her father said from behind her, causing Hermione to grimace.

“Perhaps,” she offered. In hopes of steering the conversation away from the subject of her bearing children, she turned to him and said, “Either way, I’m glad to hear that Minerva is doing better. Do you know of any reason behind it?”

Shaking his head, he shrugged. “She said she had a dream that she was needed longer here and that the underworld would wait for her until she had finished what was expected.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “A prophecy? Did she speak to High Priest Albus about it?”

“She told me that she met with both High Priest Albus and his apprentice, Severus Boox Manik, last night,” her father confirmed. “They are the reason I knew to check in on her again so soon, as Severus stopped by after seeing her and before you returned last night.”

Hermione blushed. She had gone out once again after the final meal of the day, and met up with the women from her team to eat some morning glory seeds she had taken from her father’s supply. It had been quite late when she had stumbled back into her sleeping area.

With this news from her father, Hermione now wondered if this vision had come to Minerva before or after Draco’s visit.

Two days later, Hermione was once again walking through the jungle alone. This time it was early morning, and she was headed for a spot her family knew of for its large cache of morning glories. She needed to replace what she had taken from her father before he missed it. He did not use the seeds overly often in his rituals, but he preferred their effects over peyote when he needed to converse with the gods.

Hermione had partaken in both plenty of times, but held no delusions that the gods were communicating with her when she was under their effects. After talking to her friends about what they felt and saw while using the drugs, she couldn’t see that the gods would give the lot of them so many random, mixed messages.

Coming upon the secret spot where many vines wrapped themselves around trees, she found the man who had been near-constantly occupying her thoughts standing among the delicate blooms.

“Have you come to converse with a god?” he asked her, smiling slyly, obviously knowing she was there to gather seeds.

“How did you find this place?” she demanded, ignoring his jibe and gesturing to the small protected area far off the trail. It was an hour’s walk from any dwellings. She put her hands on her hips and assumed a snotty tone of voice. “My father is a Medicine Man. He needs these seeds. You have no right to them.”

Raising a brow, Draco regarded her defensive pose. “So, you won’t be using them again with your friends to converse with your chosen goddess?”

Feeling her face burn, Hermione was sure even her ears were red. “I didn’t see you the other night. How did you know we took those seeds?”

Draco chuckled. “How could I not know? You aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Well,” Hermione said in a snappy tone, pursing her lips before realizing she did not have anything else to say.

She decided to try to channeling Ginny, flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking up to where he stood in order to begin gathering any seeds she could find. Her intention to ignore him went awry when she came within an arm’s length of him. Draco practically jumped back, as if he could not stand to be near her.

Was he scared she would touch him again? She hesitantly raised a hand toward him and he moved even further away.

Abruptly, he asked her, “What did you see when you took the seeds two nights ago?”

Dropping her hand, Hermione contemplated Draco. There was a look of curiosity in his eyes, but also a look of fear. It wasn’t what she would have expected, but neither was the question. The women had wandered onto the then-empty and dark ball court, and Hermione had laid down in the middle of it, staring up at the stars. During that time, she had had a sort of lucid dream… and truth be told, she had seen _him_. Not just him, but he had been there - a major part of her vision.

_She stood below thousands of people who were cheering her name; the crowds were screaming fanatically as her team moved toward glory. The grass of the ball court had been a dark shade of green, rather than everyday reality of the mostly brown grass worn thin with the dry dust of the earth showing through._

_The ball had gleamed as it moved in slow motion toward her. She reached out her wrist, hitting it perfectly back against the wall, a satisfied thrum sounding back after the impact. The angle with which it struck the stone carried the ball to Luna, and instead of misplaying it as she did day after day when they practiced, Luna had raised her arm and made a clean pass further down the court to Angelina. Taking her eyes off the field, Hermione had looked up to the stands, expecting to find it difficult to pick out Harry in the crowd, but wanting to see what he thought of their team - knowing he would be so proud of her._

_Even though she could still hear ringing in her ears from the cacophony of voices, there had been a single person sitting above them watching the game. Draco. When she had looked back to the field in shock, prepared to ask the closest player to her what was happening, she had found herself standing alone, all of the other women gone._

“I don’t remember what I saw,” she lied, warmth pooling in her stomach as her treacherous body remembered the way her vision had ended. She had come out of the trance gasping, her thighs slick and her core throbbing. At least in her dream state, Draco had more than lived up to the rumors of his sexual prowess.

Draco gave her a smoldering look and now he was the one moving closer to her, until a snap of a stick in a nearby thicket broke the spell.

Whipping her head toward the sound, Hermione reflexively called out, “Who’s there?”

She waited a beat, but no one answered and no other sound was heard that would indicate another person had come upon them. When she turned back, Draco was once again far outside her reach and looking off toward the Eastern sky. “If you don’t start gathering the seeds soon, it will be too late in the day and all of the flowers will be closed.”

She briefly contemplated how to recapture the lost feeling. Maybe if she relayed a part of her dream, she thought. But he had not spared her a glance before starting to make his hasty retreat back toward the city.

“I have to get to practice. I promised George I would come early and work with him on a few moves he feels I could be doing better.”

As Hermione worked to collect a handful of seeds in the small pouch she had tied to her belt, she thought about George trying to have Draco fit into the spot his twin brother used to occupy.

~oOo~

It was the very next day, as Hermione was making her way through the city that she saw Draco once again doing something unexpected. He was crouching down, eye-level with a young child who was sitting in the dirt and cradling her arm, looking deathly pale. Hermione thought the little girl looked as if she were in shock; she had seen her father work with broken bones before and suspected that this would be the case here.

Picking up her pace, she watched as Draco reached out to touch the affected arm.

“No, you’ll make it worse!” she shouted, in horror.

She knew it was imperative to keep broken bones as still as possible until a Medicine Man could help. It was too late, as both sets of eyes turned towards her, Draco’s hand was already wrapped around the slim, tanned arm of the child. In shock, she skidded to a halt in front of them just as the evidence of pain cleared from the girl’s face.

“What did you do to her?” Hermione looked between the two of them, now finding only a look of awe on the girl. Draco had a blank look in place, his expression guarded. He let go of the girl’s arm.

“He healed my arm! I didn’t know what to do and I don’t know where my parents are. Suddenly, he appeared!” The little girl babbled excitedly, smiling at Draco. She held up her arm, showing that it could bend back and forth. There was a decent scrape near the elbow, but nothing else wrong that Hermione could see.

The blank-faced mask slipped slightly as he gave her a patient smile in return. “Nonsense, little one. Your arm was merely scratched and you just needed a bit of reassurance.”

“No, I think it was worse than that. I think it was broken,” the girl said, voicing exactly what Hermione had suspected when she first saw them.

Draco patted the girl on the head before standing up and dusting off his knees. He gave Hermione a conspiratorial wink. “They always think it’s worse than it really is.”

Cocking her head, Hermione regarding him carefully. He could not have healed a broken arm just by holding it for a few moments. She had watched her father set broken bones, then work with the patient to keep them wrapped in such a way as to restrict movement for months. It took many moons for a break to fully heal. He must be telling the truth, and the girl had just been frightened.

“Do you need help finding your parents?” he asked the girl kindly. “Are they just here visiting for the festivities?”

“I don’t recognize her,” Hermione said. “She isn’t anyone I’ve seen before.”

“My mother came to sell her pottery in the market, but the main one was full already. I can’t remember where she set up her blanket,” the girl admitted, her voice growing small as the adrenaline wore off and a bit of her earlier fear crept back in.

“Oh, I know where the secondary market is being held,” Hermione offered helpfully, reaching for the child’s hand. “It’s behind the Temple of the Bearded Man. I can walk you there and help you find her.”

“Would you like to come with us?” Hermione asked Draco before leading the girl away. Dragging his eyes up from where her hand held the girl’s, he looked strangely sad when he shook his head.

~oOo~

Just fourteen days before the equinox, the sun was near setting on another day. Harry had visited Hermione’s home earlier in the day and left word with her mother that he and Ron were looking for her. She had met up with her two best friends near the trail to the Sacred Cenote. Many people were going back and forth down the path, coming and going from the limestone grotto.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more private to talk,” Harry suggested, watching the steady stream of Chaac worshippers. He turned on his heel and headed east.

Harry was an expert on the ways of the jungle, as well as the best hunting grounds, stretching for a large swath around them. Hermione trusted they would not end up lost when he quickly disregarded a small walking path and led them through thick foliage. None of them spoke as they walked, and Hermione’s curiosity grew as to what sort of secretive conversation her friends wanted to have. When they came to a small plateau, Harry finally halted. Putting finger to his lips, he signaled the other two to be silent as he listened to make sure they had not been followed.

Seemingly satisfied, he motioned for them to sit on a large stone.

Rubbing his head in a gesture Hermione was familiar with, Harry hesitated nervously before beginning. He looked at Ron, taking final deep breath before asking, “Does George seem… a bit off to you?”

Ron laughed, relief palpable on his face. “I’m not sure what I was expecting when you said the three of us needed to meet in private, but that certainly wasn’t it. Nah mate, he finally seems to be getting back to himself, laughing again and eating more of what Mum makes for dinner.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a bit sudden?” Harry pressed. “Before our team started up practice again, George wasn’t interested in anything. Now, he seems to have a manic focus on our team winning this tournament. Almost like…”

Ron waited expectedly for Harry to keep talking, but Hermione realized Harry did not know how to finish what she guessed he wanted to say.

“What?” Ron asked.

Hermione figured she would have to say it for Harry. “Harry thinks he wants to win the tournament in hopes of being the one chosen from your team to be sacrificed.” She felt awful when she saw consternation, followed by anger bloom on Ron’s face.

“No way!” he stated in disbelief, standing up and looming over them. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in denial. “George would not do that to our Mum and Dad. We’ve all seen the way Mum still breaks into tears for no reason. Sure, everyone calls it a noble sacrifice, but you try standing in the crowd and pretending to be happy when the priest cuts out your brother’s heart and holds it aloft for a cheering crowd.”

This was not something the trio had discussed before: Ron’s feelings on what had happened to Fred the last time Harry’s team won. Seeing the raw love Ron had for his family hit Hermione hard; his eyes burned bright with anguish.

“Ron, I’m so sorry,” Harry began, reaching up to take Ron’s hand. Ron immediately snatched it back.

“That’s easy for your to say!” Ron snapped, stepping back from the other two. “You don’t have any brothers or sisters to lose, either of you. You have no clue what it’s like.”

“That’s not fair!” Hermione broke in before Ron could say more. She stood up and stepped toe-to-toe with him. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Harry, you, and all of your family are the closest thing I have to brothers and a sister. I may not have felt exactly how you did when Fred was sacrificed in front of us, but it wasn’t like I was enjoying it. Especially since I don’t see anything noble in what we do for the _supposed gods_. It’s all a waste of life, as far as I’m concerned!”

Harry jumped up, putting an arm in-between them as Hermione’s words took on more heat.

“Hey, you two - we’re on the same side here. George’s side,” he reminded them, making Hermione feel bad. It appeared his words had the same effect on Ron, as he uncrossed his arms and began to appear contrite.

“Perhaps,” Ron began, not looking directly at either of them while fidgeting with the knife strapped to his side, “you have a point. He has been going above and beyond to make sure our team is even better than last year. Like the extra time he’s taken to train Draco on our strategies, since he hadn’t played with us before.”

Hermione did not dwell on the way her heart rate sped up just at the mention of Draco’s name. She was now finding excuses to talk to him nearly every day, often times running into him more than once. She wondered if Ron had noticed that, too?

“Is there anything we can do to stop him from basically volunteering himself to die?” she asked.

“Beyond throwing a game so we don’t make it to the final round?” Harry responded, arching a brow.

“Bloody hell, you aren’t serious, are you?” Ron sputtered in indignation.

Harry shrugged, looking grave.

“It’s not like any of us can control who High Priest Albus chooses sacrifice to Kukulkan,” Hermione said as a gentle reminder.

On the day before the equinox, once the winning team was announced, the high priest would close himself away inside the chamber of the large pyramid dedicated to the Winged Serpent god and meditate overnight, waiting for the deity to tell him who to choose. In the predawn hours, he would emerge and tell a waiting acolyte which player to fetch.

“I don’t know if that would work. What if someone figured out what we did? We’d be punished. King Tom may even decide to behead us all and put our heads on spikes in front of the Wall of Skulls. That would be worse for everyone, losing us all, rather than just George,” Harry said.

Hermione could only nod in agreement, too overcome with emotion at the idea of losing so many people she loved in one swift blow. King Tom Ajaw Xibalba had risen to ruling their city in a bloody coup a few years ago. He and his followers had gained power due to the disarray sown by the continuing drought. He had promised changes that would please the gods and bring blessings back to their land.

One of his first decrees had been that women were equal to men in the eyes of the gods, and that he intended both a man and woman to be declared as the ultimate sacrifice on each equinox. Before then, women had only been allowed to be sacrificed very occasionally, in cenotes. This was one philosophy in which Hermione found herself in lockstep with her parents - all three of them agreed that killing off fertile females was a waste when their population growth had begun to stagnate. According to her mother, less babies were being born than when she had first taken on the role of midwife. Her father's worst days were the ones when children who hadn't even made it through their first year died in spite of his efforts. Hermione had noticed the number of those miserable days increasing.

This radical change to the rules of the land had first taken place four years ago. Since then, King Tom had continuously shown he would do almost anything to retain his place atop their society. Any hint of dissent, even if it was something as simple as not giving your all to a game, would likely be treated as an act of treason. 

“If we decide to do it, can we trust the other people on our team to go along with it?” Harry asked. Ron looked skyward as he thought about it. Weighing each team member in her head, Hermione came to the conclusion that there was only a single person they could not trust implicitly. Harry must have come to the same conclusion, because as Ron seemed to still be considering their friends, Harry had turned to look at Hermione with a furrowed brow.

It seemed he had noticed how much time Hermione had been spending with his new teammate.

~oOo~

She had not meant for it to happen the way that it did, but when she found Draco later that day, he was speaking in hushed tones to another stranger she thought she recognized as someone who had been coming and going from their village for many years now. Before she could approach him to ask if he would meet her in private to talk later on, she overheard him mention Pansy.

Jealousy surged through her, surprising her with its strength considering Draco had not even touched her since the incident in the jungle almost a month ago. Yet, she had begun to imagine him as hers. How could she have been so foolish? Still, she had a mission to accomplish - saving George - and that meant talking to Draco.

“Can we talk?” she asked, knowing her tone was brusque, but not really caring what either man thought of her. The man she did not know chuckled. Narrowing her eyes at him, she inquired, “Did I miss a joke?”

Still laughing, the other man shook his head and walked away without saying a word.

“Do you know him?” Hermione could not help asking Draco.

Looking pensively at the retreating man’s back, Draco answered, “Theo Chan Ha’ and I go way back. Sometimes, he knows me better than I know myself.”

Not sure what he meant by that, she returned to the matter at hand. “If we could go somewhere private, perhaps?”

“I need to speak to someone else first, but I could meet you when the first star appears in the sky. By the Tomb of Chac-mool.”

“Yes, that will be fine.” As he walked away immediately after she agreed, with barely a nod to show he had heard her, Hermione concluded his thoughts were occupied with Pansy.

Later, after the sky had grown dark and she left to meet up with Draco, Hermione found herself walking around many small groups of people still out. They were mingling and drinking alcoholic beverages with friends or newly made acquaintances. The formal ball games were set to begin the day after tomorrow, but the revelry was already in full swing, with large numbers of spectating men and women ready to place bets on the teams.

These extra people milling about, and the noise they created, muffled the sound of her footsteps, allowing her to come unnoticed upon Draco once again talking with Theo, but this time with Pansy present. She stopped short when Draco hugged Pansy tightly, then pulled back to give her a kiss on the cheek. Pansy tried to turn her head to get access to his mouth with hers, but he dodged her by thrusting her toward Theo. Pansy began to quietly cry, reaching her hand out to Draco, even as Theo put an arm around her waist.

“Draco, please!” the other woman called in a plaintive voice, looking back toward Draco while Theo steadfastly guided her away.

Draco shook his head at her. He enigmatically answered her plea with, “You aren’t intended for me, but for him.”

Suspecting she was not meant to witness whatever was taking place, Hermione stayed where she was, standing behind Draco but sheltered by another building, out of his sight. There were other people standing closer than her, to what should have been a shocking scene, but they all seemed oblivious to the drama taking place in their midst.

“But we were so good together. We could have had eternity,” Pansy called out as she now struggled to break Theo’s grip on her. For his part, Theo did not turn back, but just kept marching away, the inky blackness of the night almost swallowing them.

“Goodbye, Pansy,” she heard Draco say. But she suspected Pansy did not hear him as Theo took her down the path toward the Sacred Cenote.

Hermione gasped when Draco immediately turned and looked right at her. Just as he had now done many times, he shocked her with his inhuman awareness of her presence. “Now that it’s just you, what did you want to talk about?”

For the first time, Hermione felt fear when standing alone with this unknown man. No one knew what village he came from; she had yet to find anyone who could vouch for him. Careful questioning of multiple sources over the days since he had once again appeared in Chichen Itza, had led to nearly identical answers...

The few elders she had asked relayed their sense of his reverence for authority and the ways of their people. Minerva called him a lovely young man.

The men her age all spoke of his prowess on the ball court, and of his ability to be a stealth hunter from the few times he had partaken in a group activity; she also gathered that a few were jealous of his exploits with the women of their tribe.

The females she approached nearly all swooned over his muscles and tattoos. Although tattoos were not unheard of with their people, the bravery associated with having any larger than a fingernail earned a man additional respect. The winged serpent on his left arm was both large and intricate. The amount of time, pain, and bloodshed that must have gone into creating it was extraordinary. Nearly all of the women voiced a desire to bed him.

Through all of this, not one person had spoken a word against him. Tonight, she had just witnessed a darker side to him and she felt unsure how to process it. All of these thoughts must have shown in some fashion, on her face, because his countenance softened. Offering her a reassuring smile, he gestured toward the steps of the temple next to them. “Shall we sit here, and you can tell me what you came to me for?”

“It’s… delicate,” she told him, glancing again at the revelers still clustered in small groups around the fields. She appreciated his sensitivity to her uneasiness in offering to talk in public rather than finding a private spot, but her worries for all of her friends and surrogate extended family outweighed her personal anxiety. “If anyone overheard what I need to ask of you…”

“I doubt anyone will pay attention to us. Let’s stay here. We’ll just need to keep a careful eye on anyone drawing near.”

As they sat on the bright white limestone, which shone under the half moon, whispering about Harry’s concern and the plot to keep George safe, Draco’s observation proved precinct. None of the drunken men or women came their way. It was almost as if an invisible buffer-zone sat around them.

Draco granted to help discreetly throw the tournament, aiding Harry and Ron to proceed to the semi-finals before losing to whichever team they were pitted against. No one wanted to take a chance with them making it to the final game, but losing any earlier would appear suspect for a team that was so well-regarded.

As Hermione walked home that night, satisfied with the plan she had helped hatch, she smirked when she passed an inebriated group of men arguing over how many points Harry’s team would win by this year, as they appeared to have already agreed which team they expected to triumph.

It was not nearly so funny when she heard them launch into which women’s team had the best odds.

~oOo~

Word spread quickly when Pansy was found the next morning, floating face-down in the Chaac’s sacred cenote. Hermione immediately went looking for Draco when the news reached her.

She asked after him with Harry. He said that Draco had come knocking on his door before daylight, asking to hunt with him and Ron. While alone in the jungle, the three men had solidified that all were in agreement in their intentions regarding George. They had parted ways mid-morning, just after dragging a pig back to Harry’s hut which they had shot down. He had not seen him since.

“However, I’m sure he’ll be at practice later this afternoon,” Harry told her before going back to the task of preparing the pig’s carcass. As crops had failed and the growth of maize, beans, and squash became less dependable, added pressure had fallen onto the hunters. Hermione had a fleeting thought that Harry would never have the opportunity to be a Storyteller or learn to be a Scribe, as things now stood.

The next person Hermione approached in her quest was Luna - mostly because she was the next friend Hermione ran into. Luna gave her a knowing look when she said, “I saw Draco walking with my friend, Theo. But they disappeared into the jungle hours ago now.”

“Your friend, Theo? I didn’t know you were friends with the man,” Hermione said, surprised that Luna knew him when she herself had just met him.

“He isn’t always Theo,” Luna told her, dropping her voice and looking around conspiratorially. “I think he’s a Nagual.”

“Alright, well if you see either of them again today before practice, will you let me know?”

“Even if Theo is an iguana the next time I see him?”

“Yes, even if he’s an iguana.”

Hermione did not manage to find Draco before her team’s practice. Luna told her that she had not seen Theo either, as a man or as a reptile. She finally saw him when Harry’s team met to practice, but he managed to come in just as the session began and conveniently slip away just as it ended.

Whispered remarks about why Pansy would change from primarily worshipping Kukulkan to worshipping the rain god Chaac were heard for another day. Hermione listened to the conversations, but did not offer her opinion.

The gossip died as the tournaments began, and although the masses seemed to forget about the mystery surrounding Pansy’s death, Hermione kept it tucked away in the back of her mind.

Forefront in her thoughts was the ploy surrounding Harry’s team and George. Ginny was not knowledgeable of their strategy, mainly because she was horrible at keeping a secret, but the secondary reason was her competitiveness. Sitting next to her fiery friend and watching Harry’s team barely scrape by wins in the first couple of games was difficult at best. Ginny’s indignant shouting after every error made by Harry, Neville, or Draco certainly caught people’s attention. When it was one of Ginny’s own brothers who prompted her angry tirades, Hermione had to look away in embarrassment.

Although she had yet to talk to Draco, she could see evidence of his cunning willingness to assist in the plan his teammates had put together. Emotions she could not name filled her chest constantly, leaving her simultaneously elated and scared.

Her mother had confronted her that morning as Hermione prepared herself to compete on the field. She had begun the conversation by offering to help braid Hermione’s long hair, to ensure it stayed out of her face during the game. Even her parents had noticed the changes in Hermione’s demeanor, as much as she sought to keep them to herself and struggled to categorize them. Speaking on behalf of her father too, the older woman had given their opinion on Draco. They thoroughly approved of the young man. Their only fear lay in him taking her away from them, back to whatever far-off land he hailed from.

~oOo~

It was only five days before the equinox when Hermione finally found herself alone with Draco again. She had been walking home after a late night with Ron’s family, where she had watched Lavender nearly tackle him into a snog after too many cups of balche. Hermione had been offered the drink as well, but refrained, as her team had an early morning match. There had been a pang of nostalgia, but nothing more, as she watched her friend kiss another woman. When George and Angelina snuck off into the night, Hermione realized there was a man she wanted to see and he apparently was not going to show up here looking for her. Bidding her few friends that still sat around the fire a good night, she went off in search of him, determined that this time that he would not elude her.

A pleasant scent filled the air around her when she came to a secluded spot on the southern edge of the city. Realizing it was morning glories she smelled, which should have been impossible, something in her mind clicked. Why had she not seen it all adding up before?

Cocking her head, she studied Draco as he stepped out from behind a tree. He, in turn, studied her, his face nearly impassive.

“I know you and Theo were behind Pansy’s death. Was she truly a willing sacrifice to Chaac?” she demanded, breaking the silence.

“Were we? Is that really the question you want to ask me?”

“I think we have many things to discuss,” she replied. “But, Pansy’s death is something I need to have cleared up, in order to trust you.”

Draco looked off in the distance, rubbing one hand along the opposite arm, in a seemingly nervous gesture.

“She wanted to give herself to a god. I helped her to do that. She thought she wanted eternity with me, but what she really wanted was assurance she wouldn’t end up in the underworld. She was so scared of the afterlife.” He paused, then looked at her again. “Not like you. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Turning her palm up, but barely reaching out her hand to him, she wondered if he would take it. She tried not to flinch when he moved closer, moving into her personal space while he stared at her hand without touching it.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

Swallowing hard, she nodded. Ignoring her hand completely, he bent down, and her eyes slid shut as his lips captured hers.

The sweet scent of morning glories swelled up around her, but underlying it was the metallic smell of blood. She could taste fire and rain when Draco swiped his tongue along the seam of her lips, asking for entrance. There was a pounding in her ears as if thousands of feet were stomping together in harmony when he pulled her body tight against his. She suspected it was merely the combined beating of their hearts, but she could not be sure.

His hand snaked up the back of her neck and he yanked her hair, causing her throat to arch and his lips to break free. When he latched his hot mouth onto her neck, she gasped and her eyes flew open. Above them, millions of stars filled the sky, but she found herself only witnessing what Draco had foreseen that day in the jungle when they first touched.

Finally, she believed.

~oOo~

The last few days between her revelation, along with Draco’s confirmation of his true purpose, and the culmination of the religious events taking place in Chichen Itza were a frenzy. People were awake at all hours. During the days they were trading wares, either playing in the ball tournaments or watching them, meeting with the priests to ask them to intercede with the gods, or cultivating political favors with the elites. At night, there was debauchery to be had in the way of fermented drinks, hallucinogenic drugs, and copious amounts of sex - in any shape or form a person desired.

Yet Hermione had a different agenda. She knew she would need her wits about her to help her team win the women’s tournament. Of course, staying sober didn’t preclude her taking part in other pleasurable activities with Draco. He warned her that it would be different after the equinox. Infinitely better, but he wanted her to experience everything she could before then.

On the day of the equinox, with the sun nearing its zenith, it was not George who had climbed up to the ceremonial stone block halfway up the pyramid. Instead, it was someone Hermione barely knew from a team of older men, that was slated to have his heart ritualistically given to the god Kukulkan. Draco had come through on his promise to help keep her friend on this plane of existence for bit longer. Not that she had doubted him.

As she had also known would happen, she stood beside that man, feeling calmness and excitement for what was to come. In preparation, Hermione had said her goodbyes to her parents and friends, finding them all just before Severus had come for her at dawn. The small pang of guilt she felt at not being able to warn them sooner did not linger in her thoughts. She hoped Ron and Harry had stayed away, as she had asked them to, but she suspected they were somewhere below, bearing witness to her death.

She wanted to tell the trembling man next to her not to be afraid, but even at this height, the crowds below them raised such a din she had barely heard the shouted commands from Albus and Severus about where to stand in preparation for their imminent deaths.

Actually, she did not want to interact with anyone. Standing in the immense heat of the climbing sun, all she could think of was watching as the shadow of a giant serpent crept down the steps of the pyramid to make its way toward the carved limestone head below. Last night, Draco had apologized once again for the fact he would not be able to be there with her at the end. She had shushed him with an echo of Pansy’s words. “It’s only for a few hours. After that, we’ll have eternity together.”

The irony of using the words of a dead woman, when she was soon to be one too, was not lost on her.

Finally, just as Hermione had seen in the visions granted to her night after night for the past four days as she had laid wrapped in the Draco’s arms, she prepared to utter her final words while Albus bared her chest before the screaming crowds below.

She pictured Draco, as she had last seen him under the stars, still in his human form. She looked forward to meeting him in his god form. Holding her head high, she declared,

“You can take my heart to give to Kukulkan, because in truth, it already belongs to him.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bit too much fun learning a smattering of the Yucatec Mayan language for this story. There are distinct regional languages for Mayans, and since my story takes place in the Yucatan peninsula, I tried to stay true to the linguistic variety the inhabitants of Chichen Itza would have used, rather than people from other areas of Mesoamerica. I did my best to wade through the vastness of the internet - if any of the words are incorrect, the fault lies purely with me.
> 
> Kukulkan - The Feathered Serpent god. His full name in ancient times was Waxaklahun Ubah Kan, meaning War Serpent. At Chichen Itza he is the deity shown presiding over all blood sacrifices. The great pyramid at Chichen Itza is dedicated to him. To the Aztecs, he was known as the god Quetzalcoatl.
> 
> Chaac - The Rain god. Chaac is usually depicted with a human body showing reptilian scales and a non-human head with fangs. Sacrifices to Chaac were lowered or thrown into cenotes all over the region.
> 
> Ix Chel - The goddess of midwifery and medicine. She is alternatively depicted as in old crone or as a fertile young woman, depending on what is being asked of her.
> 
> Aluxo’ob - Invisible sprite-like mythical entities. They can be mischievous, but if treated with respect, they bring good luck.
> 
> Nagual - A human being who has the power to transform either spiritually or physically into an animal form.
> 
> I gave many of my characters full Mayan names - below are their meanings:  
> Harry Chahuk Hun - Harry Lightening One  
> Ron Chak Peek' - Ron Red Dog  
> Ginny K’ak’ Tizimin - Ginny Fire Horse  
> Angelina Taj Sic - Angelina Obsidian Tobacco  
> Luna T’ul Chel - Luna Rabbit Rainbow  
> Pansy Ha’ Sijom - Pansy Water Flower  
> George Cha’ Xojb’ - George Second Coyote  
> Neville Tz’ap Maquahuitl - Neville Plant Sword  
> Minerva Mis Ch'up - Minerva Cat Woman  
> Albus K’uk Waay - Albus Quetzal Sorcerer (as an extra note, Quetzal birds are the equivalent of Phoenixes)  
> Severus Boox Manik - Severus Black Deer  
> Tom Ajaw Xibalba - Tom King of the Place of Fear, or Tom King of the Underworld  
> Theo Chan Ha’ - Theo Four Water  
> Hermione Tzula Itzae - Hermione Otter Witch  
> Draco K’iin Kan - Draco Sun Serpent


End file.
